


Somebody to you

by Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror



Series: When I watch the world burn (all I think about is you) [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: (the person and the concept lol), Endeavour Morse Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Violence, Peter Jakes Didn't Leave Oxford, Shameless Smut, hope just isnt a thing in this, not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror/pseuds/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror
Summary: Peter Jakes had come to the realisation he wanted more with Morse. Just after the man got arrested. Now Morse is back at Cowley and Jakes isn't going to let the oppertunity pass him by again.
Relationships: Peter Jakes/Endeavour Morse
Series: When I watch the world burn (all I think about is you) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772587
Comments: 21
Kudos: 78





	1. Polarize

**Author's Note:**

> wow I've literally never written something like this before so I hope it isn't too bad lol  
> and a promise of another series? yeah sorry I have ideas spilling out of my head I can't help it (don't worry I'm still working on my other series too I've just been low key side tracked by Jarse it happens to the best of us)  
> this fic follows the arcadia timeline btw (apart from Jakes isn't leaving (yay))

It was odd being back at Cowley, it felt like nothing had changed even though everything had - for him, anyways.

The pale green of the walls contrasting the dark wood of the CIDs desks, the glass wall as a makeshift notice board, covered in pictures and drabbles of information from ongoing cases. It even had the same smell. Like books mixed with the subtle aromas of washing detergent and cigarette smoke. It was comforting. Familiar. It was hard to think he was missed at all, life clearly carried on as normal in his absence, however he was pleasantly surprised to see they hadn’t given his desk away to another DC in his absence.

The rest of the day was quiet, which Morse was grateful for. After Bixby’s funeral he couldn’t clear his head, thinking of what he should have said to him when he had the chance. Thinking of what could have been if things hadn’t ended so badly. But then, wasn’t that what always happened? Rosalind Callaway, Monica, Thursday, Bix. Morse was a flame and everyone who stepped too close got burnt.

Maybe it was better for him to be alone. Alone is safe. Safe for everyone else, at least. Alone protects him.

“Wotcher.” Came the cocky one liner from his favourite recurring pain in the neck.

He looked up to find jakes hovering over his desk.

It was odd, he had missed Jakes in his own strange way. He put it down to the fact he always kept him on his toes, sometimes having someone second guess your every move was useful, or at least it made Morse make sure he never slipped up around him.

Morse raised an eyebrow, as a silent ‘what do you want?’

“So, ugh, back in Oxford then?”

Oh no. That was not what he needed right now. Grovelling Jakes was worse than arrogant Jakes by a clear mile. “Yes.” He replied in his usual sharpness.

Jakes nodded, “Moving out of the shack in the woods, then?”

Morse wasn’t sure how to take it, usually a remark like that, especially from Jakes, was a definite dig. But the way he spoke sounded somewhat remorseful.

“Yes, found a flat close to the station, get the keys tomorrow.” Morse offered, praying the small talk would end soon.

“I’ll help you move.” Jakes said immediately, pulling a cigarette out of his trouser pocket.

Morse’s eyebrows have never shot up so high. He tried to think of a valid reason why Jakes would want to help him move, he never did anything that didn’t benefit him in some way. Unless he felt like he owed him something.

“No, its fine, there isn’t much to move.” Morse said, quickly trying to blow him off.

“Well, twice the manpower, get it done in plenty of time. I’ll sign out the Jag after shift on Wednesday” Jakes replied coolly, snapping his lighter closed and taking a puff of the cigarette. before Morse could protest, he was hurrying out of the office.

Morse shook his head, hoping Jakes would forget about it by this time tomorrow.

The rest of the night was just as uneventful, catching up on masses of paperwork that had been lumbered on the desk after closing the not-so hit and run case. It didn’t help that he’d been left to babysit a woman, Mrs Robinson, whilst her husband was being reprimanded for drunk driving.

She gave the persona of the usual self-righteous woman with the – money can solve anything attitude. Morse didn’t warm to her even slightly.

* * *

Morse had just dropped Thursday at the station when he was called on a fatal fire incident that happened earlier that morning, grateful he was being put to use away from filing endless reports. 

The place smelt foul, the scent burnt plastic and smouldering wood attacking his nose. Morse had never been fond of fires. Malicious and uncontrollable with an ability to destroy anything in its path, including this poor man. 

He looked around the place with DeBryn’s insightful comments wandering his mind. Something felt off about it all.

He arrived at the pub to join Thursday and Jakes for lunch, hoping in the meantime the new WPC could shed some light on his theories.

Jakes had gone to buy a round in, giving him time to update Thursday.

“There’s something not right about the case, Sir. The clock was stopped dead on 5. Not a few minutes to or a few minutes past.”

“Too neat you mean?” Thursday questioned, opening his carefully wrapped sandwich.

“What’s this?” Jakes asked through his cigarette, placing the pints down.

“Morse has some reservations about this death by fire.” Thursday said into his sandwich.

“What’s new?” Jakes scoffed, reaching for his pint.

Morse rolled his eyes, trying not to rise to the ridicule. He didn’t understand what Jakes had against him.

“Nah, go on. Who was he?” Jakes said, looking to Morse’s tight grip on the pint, eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

Morse continued, avoiding Jakes’ eye contact.

Once they’d finished in the pub, he and Thursday ran out to this commune the man had been associated with. It was good to be on a case with Thursday again, Morse thought to himself. Thursday understood the way he worked in a way Jakes or Strange couldn’t and along with Thursday being an unbeatable detective, it made them a good team.

Maybe that was why Jakes never warmed to him, taking no comfort in a man he couldn’t comprehend. He still couldn’t help wondering why he’d been so willing to offer his services to help move Morse into his new flat, unable to think of an ulterior motive.

* * *

It was soon 5 o’clock and there weren’t any reasons why Morse could make up an excuse for staying late.

Begrudgingly, he took his thin coat from the stand, tucking it under his arm and trudged out the station.

As promised, Jakes was parked opposite in the Jag Morse had missed so much.

Morse slipped into the passenger’s seat, before Jakes started the engine and began the 12-mile journey to the lake house.

“Back for good then?” Jakes broke the silence after finishing his cigarette. It cannot be healthy smoking as much as he did, Morse thought to himself.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” He responded, uninterested in more insufferable small talk.

“Good. Been hard work, doing all the work you should have been doing as well as my own.”

Morse wasn’t sure if he was trying to make a joke. He didn’t laugh.

He looked to the rear-view mirror, stealing an indirect look of Jakes.

His eyebrows were knitted together, making Morse wonder what he was concentrating so intently on. His unreadable grey eyes set on the road, whilst his always perfectly placed hair was swept to the side with ridiculous amounts of hair gel. Morse couldn’t understand why a detective would want to put so much time into his appearance, save their own vanity.

“Look, Jakes, you really don’t have to help, you don’t owe me anything.” Morse sighed, wishing he were alone.

Jakes shot him a glance, “I know, I just wanted to help a mate out.”

“Mate?” Morse laughed back, instantly regretting it seeing Jakes’ face fall.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Jakes let out a weighted breath, “I want to be, if we aren’t.” Jakes said, slightly withdrawn.

“You never used to.” Morse muttered, unable to forget the constant torments the man gave him since starting at Cowley.

“Yeah, well, after everything, only feels right.” He tried to say in a lighter tone.

Oh. “I know a lot of things were brought to light because of… that case, but it doesn’t mean anything has to change. I still think you’re an arrogant pain in the ass.” That made Jakes smile.

Morse couldn’t help but flash a smile back, thinking of how much Jakes suited smiling. The last time he’d really spoken to him, he couldn’t have been further from it.

“I know. I didn’t mean because of that. Just think it’d be for the best, you know, so you know I’ve got your back.”

Like he hadn’t last time, Morse internally added.

They spent the rest of the drive silent, arriving a little after 5:30 to the familiar cabin.

Morse quickly unlocked the door and turned on a lamp. It was still light outside, sun lowering to its golden hour in the spring air, but the cabin let in hardly any light, the only source from the glass doors.

“So, this is it?” Jakes said, poking around the small area.

Morse nodded, pulling the suitcase from under the single bed. He was going to miss the seclusion.

“Huh.” Jakes continued, “all these yours?” pointing at the pile of booked on the side table.

“Yes, a selection from when I used to study Greats.” He replied simply, throwing his clothes into the suitcase ungracefully.

Thankfully, Jakes stopped questioning him and started placing the books and belongings into some boxes he’d put in the back of the car.

Morse was closing the suitcase when Jakes voice came from behind him, “Who’s this?”

Morse didn’t need to turn around to know what he was looking at. He only owned one photograph.

He paused, “My mother.” He really didn’t want to talk about that right now, not after everything that had happened recently, bringing up more people Morse couldn’t save wasn’t going to help anything.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.” Morse said bluntly.

That shut him up. And luckily it stayed that way until they’d finished packing the car up and were making their way back down the country roads.

Morse resided to staring aimlessly out of the window, watching the trees roll past as they drove.

He directed Jakes to the location of his new bedsit which was enviously close to the station. Jakes’ flat was on the other side of town.

They’d manage to pack his things into an efficient 4 boxes, a suitcase and, of course, his record player.

They quickly got all of his things into the living room of the basement flat before Morse offered him a drink, since he had proved rather helpful in the end.

It only took Morse a few minutes to fish out two glasses and a bottle of scotch from a box, which he placed on a side table between two worn looking chairs which sat in front of the wide windows. It was strange to have so much natural sunlight fill into the room after becoming used to the boathouse. 

“Cheers.” Jakes said, sinking into the seat.

“Cheers. And thanks for your help, turns out you do have moments of use sometimes.” Morse smirked into his glass.

Jakes laughed, “not just a pretty face.”

Morse felt inclined to agree for a second before swallowing the thought back down, brushing it off in a half smile.

“I really didn’t think I’d come back.” Morse said quietly, staring at the almost empty glass.

“I didn’t think you would either.” Jakes added.

“Well, I do have a habit for proving you wrong.” Morse mocked, pouring himself another drink.

Jakes chuckled, looking over to Morse. Their eyes met for a second before Morse quickly looked away.

“Are you okay? Thursday mentioned the funeral was the other day.” Jakes spoke hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

Morse nodded solemnly. “Some people aren’t meant for this world.” And one of those people was Bix. He was a free spirit in a world where everything tried to knock you down.

“I’m sorry.” And god help him, he really sounded it.

“Its fine.” It wasn’t.

“You seemed close.” Jakes offered.

Morse nodded, “We got along well. I know, he’s not the company I usually keep, but… he was like a flash of light when all I could see was darkness.” Morse held his tongue. He wasn’t drunk, why had he said that? It wasn’t like he was searching for Jakes’ approval on his choice in friends.

“I’m sorry that that’s how you felt. Rotten luck you’ve had recently.”

Morse laughed. That was one way of putting it.

“I just want to say, I wanted to write to you. Whilst you were… Bright said we couldn’t though. Couldn’t show bias he said, said it could be used against you and tarnish our statements.”

Morse nodded, part of him hoped Jakes was telling the truth, that they had cared but couldn’t risk showing it.

“Thank you.” Morse said sincerely.

“I know I can’t make up for what happened, but hope you’ll let me try.”

Morse shook his head, “there’s nothing to forgive, Jakes. No one could have stopped what happened.”

“Peter. We’re off duty.”

Morse smiled awkwardly, he always felt guilty for not offering the same curtesy. “Peter,” he tried again, “you have nothing to make up for.”

Peter shook his head, “My weakness almost got you and Thursday killed. God knows I have a lot to make up for.”

“You can’t call what happened to you weakness.it would eat a lesser man alive. No one could blame you for not wanting to go back there.”

Jakes nodded finishing emptying his glass, grateful for Morse’s easily forgiving nature.

Luckily, the conversation took a lighter tone, with Jakes updating him on the petty cases he’d missed whilst he was away, Morse even offered some stories of his month living at the lake house. It was nice to just chat, with no real direction or purpose.

It surprised Morse how much he enjoyed Peters company after years of nothing but throwing back handed comments at each other. He knew Jakes was much more outgoing than Morse, but he never thought they’d have so much to talk about, let alone having anything in common.

It was almost 10pm by the time Jakes knocked back his final glass in a large gulp. “I should get going. Thanks for the drink – well half the bottle.” He laughed eyeing the empty bottle that sat between them.

“Well thanks again, for helping me move.” Morse said moving towards the door, twitching the right side of his moth into his usual half ‘smile’, if that’s what it could be seen as.

“Think nothing of it.” He said, aware of how close he was stood to Morse in the cramped doorway.

For a moment they lingered. It must be the whiskey, Morse thought, as he pictured himself leaning forward.

They were so close Morse could smell the scent of aftershave and tobacco that lingered on his pressed suit, the smell of whiskey in his breath.

Jakes didn’t move, unsure how to read the situation.

Morse frowned, studying him.

God, Jakes wanted to wipe that frown off his pretty little face, he thought before he registered himself surging forward.

Jakes lips crushed into Morse’s, making the man stumble back, bracing himself on the wall behind him.

It took a moment for Morse to register what was happening. Feeling Jakes’ lips on his, pushing against him made his mind run wild, but he kissed him back, opening his mouth letting it deepen.

Jakes’ lips were soft and wet as they pressed possessively onto Morse’s, eliciting a silent moan from Morse.

Jakes moved his hand from the wall to cup Morse’s jaw, trying to close any space between them.

Morse couldn’t think coherently but he was grateful for it. He grabbed at Jakes’ hips pulling them flush together.

Jakes returned by pushing his tongue into Morse’s mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey. He let out a low growl, half desperation, half triumph whilst he carded his hand through Morse’s untamed curls.

Hands ran wildly, covering each other in chaste touches whilst their lips remained locked, refusing to pull away for air.

Morse didn’t know what he was thinking, but his fingers found themselves working their way at undoing Jakes’ tie and shirt buttons in frantic movements.

Jakes pulled away looking flushed. “Bed. Now.” He whispered harshly, ripping the tie off that Morse was making hard work of and pulling Morse towards the bedroom.

It only took them a few fumbling paces before they reached the unmade double bed. Morse felt the back of his calves hit the bed frame as Jakes continued assaulting his mouth.

They fall onto the bed, not letting the other go as Jakes littered wet kisses down Morse’s clean-shaven neck. Morse reached up, fisting Jakes’ perfectly pressed shirt, pulling him closer.

“Jesus, Morse.” Jakes hissed before reclaiming Morse’s mouth.

Morse felt Jakes’ hand push against the small of his back, feeling a hand snake up his back under his shirt.

They finally drew back for long enough to take their shirts off before Jakes slammed back down onto Morse’s now bare chest, pushing their hips together.

Morse gasped at the friction of their cocks between their clothes, his mind dizzy with want.

Jakes ran his fingers down Morse’s exposed back, making the younger man shudder beneath him.

“Peter” he gasped, closing his eyes, letting himself melt into him.

Peter wasted no time undoing Morse’s trousers, deciding he’d never hated a piece of garment more in his life. Morse returned, sweat forming on them as their skin moulded into each other.

Jakes takes their cocks in his hand, picking up a fast pace. Morse couldn’t help grinding upwards, desperately wanting more.

The sounds coming from Morse were filthy. Jakes tried to drown them out to let the moment last longer, but he couldn’t. The intensity was too much.

Peters rhythm faltered as he fell over the edge, spilling onto Morse’s chest. Morse followed quickly behind him, coming hard between them.

Jakes let out a breath and fell to the bed beside him.

Morse lay, panting, trying to make sense of what just happened. He knew he needed to go and clean up, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

He looked to Jakes who turned his head to him. Morse couldn’t think of what to say. He was awkward at the best of times, let alone after fucking his superior officer. “I’ll get a cloth.” He said scurrying away to the bathroom.

They dressed quietly, Morse gathered his clothes into a pile and slipped into his vest and flannel pyjama bottoms.

“Where’s my tie?” Jakes asked, turning over everything in the small bedroom.

“Ugh, by the door.” Morse said, smiling at the stupidity of it all.

Jakes laughed, finding it strewn across the floor.

“Well, ugh, goodnight, then.” He said before letting himself out.

Morse was still stunned. What the hell was he thinking? And Jakes, of all people? He brushed a hand over his swollen lips, picturing Jakes on him, unable to think of anything else. It was odd, for Morse to not think of hundreds of things a second, it was calming. Even if it was Jakes that possessed that thought.

He stayed up until the early hours, unpacking the small number of belongings he had. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Jakes’ lips on his. He felt like a teenager and he hated it. It was nothing more than two guys getting some release, a one-night stand which didn’t mean anything. But Morse couldn’t shift Peter Jakes from his mind.


	2. Million Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse tries to decide what he wants.

Morse woke up, armed with only a few hours restless sleep, and drove to Thursday’s house. He’d seen Joan in passing but hardly registered a word she said, unable to think clearly.

He was in for a long day.

He tried to remove himself from Jakes’ presence throughout the day, unable to shift his eyes from the tie Morse could still picture on his floor. Jakes never wore the same tie twice in a week. If he was doing it to torment him it was working.

Jakes carried on like normal and Morse couldn’t fathom how the man was managing it. Maybe it just didn’t mean anything to him, just like it shouldn’t have to Morse.

He didn’t get an opportunity to speak to him about what happened, but Morse couldn’t decide if that was a good thing. He wasn’t sure if he would say “look last night was a huge mistake and we should just forget it ever happened” or “I have no idea what the hell we were thinking but since then I can’t get you out my mind.”

Maybe it was best to let it slide. Morse had had one night stands before. He didn’t know why this one was so different, apart from the obvious fact that they worked together.

No matter how much he tried to consume himself in the case though he couldn’t stop picturing Jakes lips on his, running hands through his hair. Even after being called to the Robinson’s house, unnecessarily he might add, he couldn’t help but want to see him. To clear the air, of course.

And that’s how he found himself outside Jakes’ flat at gone 11 o’clock at night. His thoughts were conflicted the whole journey, telling himself to turn back, telling himself they couldn’t go on working together without clearing the air, and as usual work came first.

The light was on behind a dark coloured curtain, in what Morse presumed was the living room, so Morse knocked on the door to the ground floor flat.

Jakes opened the door, and instead of the surprised look Morse expected he simply smiled and let him in with a simple “Morse.”

The flat was much nicer than his, for one the rooms were actually segregated by doors, giving it a much more homely feel. The tv was on in the far corner on a modern style stand with a plush brown sofa opposite. The room was painted an almost mustard colour, which Morse decided could only have been pulled off by someone as bold as Jakes.

He turned to the man dressed in a plain brown sweater and trousers, surprised he owned clothing that wasn’t a tailored suit. “Sorry for the intrusion, I know its late.”

“Nah, don’t worry, was only watching the footy highlights.” He gestured at the TV.

They stood meters apart, looking at the football. “So um, just in the neighbourhood or what?” Jakes joked, knowing full well he lived on the other side of town.

“Ugh, no, I’d just finished for the night, thought we should maybe talk.” He said hesitantly.

“About what?” Jakes asked, unnoticeably closing some distance between them.

Morse cursed, unable to look at anything other than Jakes’ lips. “About ugh…” he couldn’t help it. His brain didn’t work around him, as if he were kryptonite.

Jakes hadn’t planned on letting him finish the sentence anyways, stepping in and closing what little space remained between them. He raised his hand slowly, letting it card through Morse’s hair. He paused, waiting to see how Morse would react.

To answer Jakes’ question, Morse leaned in, slowly pressing his lips to Jakes’, putting a hand on the side of Jakes’ face, fingers brushing his ear.

Jakes made a pleased humming sound, deepening the soft kiss.

It was slower than yesterday, gentler.

Or at least it started that way.

And that’s how they found themselves in a sense of déjà vu, naked and panting in bed as the clock marked the sound of a new day.

It felt slightly different though. Instead of throwing their clothes back out and hurrying away from the situation, they simply laid in bed, staring at the ceiling of Peter’s bedroom.

“What was it you wanted to talk about again?” Jakes flashed Morse a Cheshire cat grin.

Morse laughed, “I was going to tell you we needed to forget about yesterday.”

“Turned out well.” Jake mocked, rolling onto his stomach, propping himself up onto his elbows as he watched Morse. “Why would you want to, anyways?”

Morse shrugged, “didn’t want it to affect our work.”

Jakes raised his eyebrow, “can’t say I felt much different at work, I’ve always wanted to bend your arrogant arse over your desk and have my way with you.”

Morse was glad he wasn’t drinking anything because he’d have surely choked. “Jesus, Peter.”

“Nah, trust me, Jesus has nothing to do with it.” He smiled, lightly tracing a hand down Morse’s freckled arm.

Watching Peter made Morse unsure about what he’d decided his new life would be like. He was so set against meeting anyone, determined he was better off alone, but lying next to Peter made him wonder. “What are we doing?”

Peter frowned, “chatting?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, Morse. I guess that’s up to you.” he said, falling back into his back.

“Since when was this only on me?”

“Since I made my opinion on this, us, clear.”

Morse shook his head, frowning at the ceiling. “I don’t get it. You hate me. Or at least you had me fooled.”

“I hate you by principle. Posh Oxford boy strolling in, taking bagman from under me, people would question if I didn’t. And anyways, I did at first.”

Morse laughed, “what changed?”

“I don’t know, guess I let you get under my skin. I didn’t really notice until you got yourself locked up. And I’m not one for brooding.”

Morse shook his head. The man was an enigma. “But what about Peter Jakes the lady killer? You have a different woman on your arm every week!”

“Yeah well, had to keep up a certain profile. Didn’t want people having any doubts about me, you know?” He paused, studying Morse. “You can stay if you like. Got a spare towel and things if you want to shower.”

Morse was surprised to say the least. “I can’t. I need to, um, be up early tomorrow.” He felt bad but he couldn’t stop the nagging voice in his head, reminding him that he was better alone.

“Don’t be ridiculous its almost half twelve, you can’t go wondering home at this hour.” Jakes protested, silently wishing he’d change his mind.

“I can’t, Jakes.”

Peter lowered his head. Back to calling him Jakes.

“I don’t think we should do this again.” Morse said quickly, throwing his coat on that was lying lazily on the arm of Jakes’ sofa.

Jakes frowned, taken aback. “I thought –“

“Well you shouldn’t, this was a mistake.” Morse cut in.

“You came to me, remember?”

Morse shook his head, “I don’t know why.”

Jakes stepped up to him “Because you want me.”

“I shouldn’t.” Morse snapped.

“Why? Am I not up to your standards, oxford boy?”

“No, because I’m no good for you!”

Jakes was blown away by the man’s audacity. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“No, it’s not. These things… This never ends well, for either person. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“Morse, what are you talking about?” Jakes asked softly, stepping closer.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. But you know what I do understand? That I like you, that even though you drive me up the wall and stress me out to the point of giving me grey hairs, I like you, Morse. And for the life of me I don’t know why, but I want you.”

“Peter I-“ Morse didn’t know what to say. “I’ll just hurt you. I hurt everyone.”

“That’s bull shit Morse and you know it. I know you haven’t had much luck in the past, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” Peter softened, not wanting to push him away. “Think about it, at least.”

“Okay.”

“And once you come to your senses, let me know, yeah?”

* * *

Two weeks had passed since that night.

Two weeks of hardly sleeping, hardly eating, and hardly thinking of anything else but Peter Jakes.

He’d never felt so conflicted. The want in him fought for it whilst the logic in him told him it was wrong, it would never work and even if it did for a while, it would end in ruin.

Morse was a logical man. Logic always won.

But not with Peter Jakes.

Every time he saw him in work it felt like he was seeing him for the first time, apart from his sharp edges were softer now. His slender fingers that always occupied a cigarette seemed to tease him. He had no idea how Jakes could carry on normally whilst everything he was doing drove Morse insane.

He knew his mind was almost made up on the matter. Consequences be damned.

That evening he brushed his hair for the first time he could remember and even picked his least creased shirt to make a half-hearted good impression. It felt stupid really, but he thought Jakes as pretentious as he was, would appreciate the effort.

He walked to Jakes’ flat with a spring in his step. It dawned on him how much he missed his company in the small time frame he was graced with it. Missed the soft touches and the way he tasted, even if it did somewhat remind him of an ashtray.

He crossed the street and stopped outside Jakes’ apartment, smiling to himself.

A flash of movement from the open living room window drew Morse’s attention.

Jakes had sat down, carrying a glass of wine. No, two glasses of wine. Morse squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Jakes handed a glass to a smiling woman next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder, laughing, before clinking the glasses together and taking a sip.

Jakes was smiling too, eyes never leaving the woman’s face. He couldn’t blame him, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair fell below her shoulders with an effortless kink, her fragile figure was almost picturesque. Even through the window, Morse could tell her eyes were an awe consuming bright blue.

And they laughed. He smiled at her, even when she wasn’t looking. She said something through her beaming smile and Jakes immediately pulled her into a tight, embracing hug.

And Morse’s heart shattered.

“I’m not one for brooding” Jakes had said. But he didn’t realise he’d give up on Morse this fast.

He told Morse to think, to take his time. He couldn’t understand it.

He looked away painfully as tears pricked his eyes.

He laughed at himself for being so stupid, blind to Jakes’ alluring games he played so well. Couldn’t believe he’d be so naïve. He could hear them laughing even from outside. Jakes sounded so happy.

Jesus Christ, he needed a drink.

He stumbled away from the window, cursing to himself. Better off alone. Better off alone. 

It didn’t take him long to come across a pub on that side of town and he quickly began drowning his sorrows.

Tears still stung his eyes, refusing to let them fall.

He will not cry for Peter Jakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh another update! please let me know what you think of it :)) this fic was meant to be short and fluffy how do i have 8k words of angst lol


	3. Say (All I Need)

Sitting at the bar was never going to end well, too easy to refill his glass and with no one to distract him from drinking, he did what he knew best.

The bar tender began giving him questionable looks after about the seventh refill, but Morse paid no notice. He wasn’t looking for people’s acceptance.

He wasn’t really sure what he was doing. He hated that, even now, his brain hadn’t switched off, reminding him there wasn’t really a point to all of this other than self-pity. And anyways, he couldn’t really afford to keep up the pace he was going.

He paid his tab and walked out to the crisp cool air, feeling small drops of water as it began to rain. It was relieving, feeling the anger and shame soak through his skin. 

He was almost at the end of the street when a couple down an alley caught his eye.

The man, who towered over a delicate looking girl, had his hands firmly on the wall either side of her head, trapping her, whilst he made obviously unwanted advances.

It didn’t take him long to decide he sure as hell wasn’t going to ignore what was happening and found his feet carrying him towards them.

“Oi, stop that now!” He heard himself shout in the most authoritative voice he could manage whilst half cut.

The man turned to him and laughed. “Why don’t you make me.”

Morse considered his options for a second. There was no chance a guy as thick as him could be talked out of it and Morse wasn’t even sure if a punch could reach his face stood up, the man was a gian.

Morse was suddenly glad he had so much pent up anger when he found himself diving at the man’s waist, dragging him to the floor.

He heard to girl scream, running frightfully out of the alley.

Morse landed on top of the man, using the advantage to sink a right hook into the man’s face. He drew his hand back again, but the man was quicker, grabbing Morse’s arm and throwing him off him like a rag doll.

His back scraped the wall as he tried to get up.

“You’ve picked the wrong guy to fuck with.” He said, grabbing a bunch of tawny hair in his hand and punching him hard across the with his other, causing a sickening snapping sound in his nose.

Morse’s vision blurred. “Really? You punch like a girl.” He slurred. He always knew what not to say.

That rewarded him another three fast blows before letting go of his head.

Morse crumpled to the ground, blinking at the black spots that clouded his vision. He could feel blood running freely from his nose and probably his lip from the way it stung.

Before Morse could recoil the man planted his foot into Morse’s side, flipping him onto his back, where he continued berating Morse’s ribs, forcing the air out of his lungs.

For a moment Morse thought the man stopped until a hard boot connected with the side of his face, snapping his head to the side harshly making him almost losing his grip on consciousness.

And then the sound of boots got more distant. The man had finally given up.

Morse lay for a moment, letting the rain hit his bruised face. Christ, he needed to go to bed

* * *

Morse couldn’t move. Every inch of him ached. He decided he was glad he couldn’t remember why he was dirty and soaking wet.

Why was his bed so hard?

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking harshly at the sun that blinded him. Oh. He was on his living room floor.

He sat up, slowly, noting the way his ribs protested. His knuckles were missing the skin on them, which was never a good sign. And what the hell was that horrid noise?

Morse looked around, trying to find the source of the incessant noise.

Shit. His alarm. It had already been going off for an hour, unnoticed.

Shit shit shit. He hurled his clothes off quicker than he thought possible, throwing on a semi-clean suit. He almost ran out the door before he saw the reflection of his face in the mirror. Shit.

His left eye was swollen and black, accompanied with a gash above his eyebrow the covered the left half of his face in dried blood, not to mention the blood from his broken nose that seemed to do a good job at caking the rest of his face. What the fuck?

And then he remembered. The bar, the guy, Peter fucking Jakes. 

Morse sighed, taking a moment to recollect his jumbled memories. He really didn’t have time for this, he thought as he hurried to the bathroom and scrubbed the blood off his face.

He grabbed a towel, carefully patting himself dry. Clearly, he’d done a terrible job at washing the blood off since the off-white towel was now covered in a dark red.

He looked terrible. The harsh bruising forced Morse’s left eye almost completely shut. There was a lump on his forehead and purple under his right eye from the broken nose. The cut above his eyebrow still bled slightly.

He debated calling in sick, but he’d also never taken a sick day in his life, Thursday would definitely turn up at his door and probably drag him back to the Thursdays where Win would undoubtedly fuss over him all night. Plus, he wouldn’t give Jakes the satisfaction of knowing he’d won.

So, he ran to work, getting there within a few minutes even with his ribs feeling like they’d broken away from his body.

He hurried to his desk with his head down, he could see Strange and Jakes in Thursday’s office, clearly discussing something that Morse hoped he didn’t need to know about. His head pounded.

“Morse?”

He looked up to see WPC Trewlove. “Morse? What on earth happened to you?” She questioned, hovering over his desk to get a closer look at his face.

“You should have seen the other guy.” Morse tried to joke.

“Well, if I’m right, I can tell you he definitely doesn’t look as bad as you.”

“What?” Morse snapped his hair too quickly, jarring his already sore neck.

“I don’t suppose you were at the Kings Head last night?”

Morse thought for a second, “Yes, might have been.”

“There was a call, about midnight last night made by a girl named Nancy, saying there was a fight. We found the guy about an hour later wondering the streets.”

Morse frowned.

“She says the other man saved her from being assaulted.”

Morse hummed. He decided the bruises were worth it.

“That’s the fucker!” a loud shout came from the corridor. He met the eyes of the large man who was fighting against two PCs holding him back by his arms. “I’ll fucking kill you, you cocky little prick!”

Morse rose to his feet wide eyed (well, one wide eyed), watching the aggressive looking guy get dragged out the building, doors slamming behind them.

Sadly, the commotion drew Thursday from his office.

“Jesus Christ, Morse!” Thursday bellowed.

Morse winced, on second thoughts, he might prefer another round with that guy.

He turned slowly to see Thursday, Strange and Jakes staring at him.

“Sir.” He muttered, trying to avoid eye contact.

“What the fuck, Morse?” Jakes blurted out, sounding horribly worried.

Morse shrugged, slightly wincing at moving his ribs.

“What was all that about, matey?” Strange questioned, eyeing up Morse’s battered face.

Morse laughed slightly, “apparently he doesn’t like being told he hits like a girl.”

“What the hell happened, Morse?” Thursday cut in a more serious tone.

“That guy happened, apparently. I’m sure he’ll have made a statement.” Morse said, lowering himself into his chair. How was his head ringing so much?

“Yeah, about beating up some arrogant pig who deserved it, is what his statement reads.” Thursday cut in, straight to the point.

“Guess he isn’t far off.” Morse muttered, unable to look at Jakes.

“I don’t believe you would start a fight. What really happened?”

Morse sighed, “I saw him harassing a girl, so I asked him to stop. He didn’t appreciate it.”

Jakes heart swelled with pride, even with the weight of concern lingering on his shoulders.

The thrumming in Morse’s head refused to leave, eliciting a sharp hiss when he put a hand to his head.

“You need to go to hospital.”

“I’ll take him.” Jakes jumped in.

“What? No. no I’m fi-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re fine when you’re literally sat bleeding in front of me.” Thursday thundered. “Jakes, take him to get checked out.”

Morse wanted to protest but he didn’t have the energy, trying to rise from his chair. The more sober he got the more pain etched its way in.

Jakes quickly read the pained expression on his face, and hooked an arm under his shoulder, helping him stand.

“You did good, Morse.” Thursday said to Morse in a low voice, “just next time you play knight in shining armour, make sure they’re your size.”

Jakes supported him as they walked out the building towards the car, “Christ Morse, you reek of alcohol.” Jakes said, helping him into the passenger seat.

Morse didn’t reply. He reeked of alcohol because Jakes had played him like a fucking harp. He was bruised to shit because Jakes broke his heart.

Jakes slid into the driver seat, starting the engine to take them to casualty.

“Morse? You alright?” Jakes asked, glancing between Morse and the road.

“What do you think?” He muttered.

Jakes tutted, “For god sakes Morse, you know what I mean.”

Morse just looked out the window. He couldn’t look at him. He’d let Jakes play on his mind for so long, let him trust him to the point where he threw all logical feelings out the window, and the man didn’t even care. Morse was just another one of his conquests.

“Why the hell were you there anyways? Its miles from your flat.” Jakes said irritably, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“it doesn’t matter.”

Jakes threw him an annoyed look. “It does matter Morse. This matters. You matter… You matter to me.”

Morse couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t lie to me Jakes. I don’t mean shit to you, I never have.”

A flash of anger crossed Jakes’ face as he pulled harshly into a side street and stopped the car.

“What the hell are you on about? Did you hit your head?” Jakes demanded, turning all of his attention to Morse.

“Oh, don’t play stupid. I saw you last night.” Morse bit back.

“What?”

“I came to your flat last night. That’s why I was in that side of town. I went to tell you that you were right, that I did want you, that I wanted to give us a go.” Morse laughed again, causing his cut lip to split. “How stupid of me.”

“You came to my flat?” Jakes repeated absently, trying to figure out how it ended in Morse getting rat arsed and beaten in an alley.

“Yes. And I saw you, with that woman, laughing and smiling, cuddled up on the sofa like some scene of domestic bliss. Did you take me for an idiot?”

The colour drained from Jakes’ face. “Yes, you are an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman – Hope. She had some news she needed to tell me. Nothing happened, Morse. Me and her had a small thing a bit back but that’s over now, completely.”

Morse gave him a doubtful look. “That isn’t what ‘over’ looks like to me.”

“Shes engaged. And pregnant. That’s what she’d come to tell me because we stayed friends after it didn’t work out. Shes moving to America.” Jakes smiled slightly.

Morse frowned, unsure whether to believe him.

“Look at me Morse.” Jakes said sternly, putting a light hand to his unbruised jaw. “I don’t want her. Or anyone else. I want you.”

Morse pulled away. “You shouldn’t. You know I can’t give you anything she could? You could take her out for your posh dinner dates, show her off to all your friends, get married, have kids. You could be happy, Peter really happy. You don’t want me.”

Jakes looked like he was about to blow a fuse. “So, you know what makes me happy now? What I want out of my life? Fuck you.”

“You want to know what makes me happy? You, you fucking bastard. You make me happy. I don’t want posh dates and a family with a picket fence if it doesn’t have you there. Why can’t you see that?”

Jakes breathed out, letting his annoyance dissipate. “I just want you, in any and every way.” He sounded defeated.

Morse couldn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice. “Oh.” Is all he could manage.

Jakes shook his head and leaned forward, quickly kissing Morse who moved into it.

He pulled away, tasting copper in his mouth. “Shit, Morse.” He said, wiping Morse’s blood from his lips. “We good then?”

Morse nodded, “Yeah, we’re good. Or at least you are. I feel like I’ve been trampled on a few times over.”

Jakes laughed. “Right, hospital.” He said, restarting the car.

* * *

Thursday had insisted he’d take the rest of the day off after they got back from the hospital. Apparently working on a concussion wasn’t recommended, and after getting stitches on his forehead, he needed a lie down anyways.

Jakes helped him into his flat, careful of the four bruised ribs the doctor had diagnosed.

Morse tried to divert to the armchair in the living room, but Jakes was having none of it, leading him to the bedroom.

“Trying to get me in bed again, are you?” Morse joked lightly.

“Watch it, don’t want you splitting your lip again.” He said, smiling all the same.

“I’ll make you something to eat. Doctor said you’re too skinny.” He said after laying Morse down. Morse rolled his eyes, deciding to never take Peter to a check up again. He acted like a worried mother, taking note of everything the doctor had said.

“I don’t think I have anything in.”

He waited a few moments, hearing Peter hunt around the cupboards in the kitchenette. “Ah ha! Crusty toast coming up.”

Morse smiled, letting his eyes close. Peter appeared a few minutes later, as promised, with toasted crusts, topped with a thin coat of butter.

“Thanks.” Morse said, sitting up to take a bite as Peter took a seat on the edge of the bed.

He reached up, tracing Morse’s bruised eye lightly with his fingertips. “God Morse, what you do to me.”

Morse looked to him from his toast.

“If I got my way, I’d have you bubble wrapped and locked in my flat.”

Morse laughed, “that sounds like torture.”

“Well if it kept you safe, I wouldn’t care. I swear, the next person who lays a finger on you won’t get away so easily.” He said softly, brushing the hair away from Morse’s forehead and planted a kiss.

Morse hummed warmly at the contact, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you, Morse. I know what it must have looked like.” Jakes said guiltily. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for Morse getting banged up.

“Its fine, it’s my own fault for jumping to conclusions. I should have trusted you; I just find it hard to sometimes.”

“I know, but I’m never going to give you a reason to doubt me again, Endeavour Morse.”

Morse winced slightly, “Didn’t know you knew my name.”

“Of course, I do. Couldn’t keep thinking of you as the mysterious E. Morse, could I?” Morse didn’t say anything “I like it.”

Morse looked to him curiously. “You wouldn’t if it was yours.”

“Perhaps not, but Endeavour Jakes doesn’t have the same ring. Plus, I don’t have the personality to match it. Makes you unique.”

Morse hadn’t really thought of it in that way before. He always just thought of it as the name that branded him with the nickname Pagan he hated so much. Only his mother had called him Endeavour, everyone else deemed it too odd.

“Can I call you Endeavour?” Jakes asked, lightly stroking Morse’s hair as he ate.

Morse thought for a moment. “if you want to.”

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I have no idea how I took that plot line but here we are lol. Promise the last chapter will be fluffy... maybe


	4. Lay me down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a chapter of fluff! Who'd have thought I'd ever manage it

Light flooded through Morse’s thin curtains as another day rose, filling the room with a warm glow.

Morse had already woken after jakes accidentally elbowed him in his sleep, not that Morse minded too much, waking up to Peter was a sight he’d never tire of.

Morse lifted himself to sit up, resting his back on the bed frame.

Peter lay dozing beside him, wearing nothing but a bed sheet that had wrapped around his slim waist, his lips slightly pursed as he breathed peacefully.

The man was beautiful. Morse found himself reaching a hand towards his hair, smoothly running his hands along the top, smoothening down the stands that had fallen out of place in the night.

He wished he could live in that moment.

He let his fingers run down and trace the edges of his face, feeling the soft skin against his.

He couldn’t help but gently stroke the mans cheek, gliding over his sharp cheekbones. He saw Peter's eyebrows furrow slightly before he slowly opened his eyes.

Morse didn’t move his hand, thumb circling his cheek. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning” he smiled lazily, squinting up to Morse as his eyes adapted to the morning sun. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” He Leant down, angling Peters head upwards with a soft palm under his jaw and placed a kiss to Peters lips, morning breath be damned.

Peter hummed, “You seem happy.”

“I guess am. ‘S your fault.” Morse said softly, before leaning back against the bed board again.

“Well I hope you haven’t been awake too long admiring me, doctor said you need rest.” Jakes tried to not sound like a mother hen, but Morse could see right through him.

Morse smiled, “you sound like you care.”

“Of course, I bloody care. Too damn much.” And it was true, it irritated Jakes that he’d become so attached in such a short space of time.

He pulled Morse back down, so they were lying parallel facing each other.

Peter placed a soft hand on Morse’s neck, brushing it lightly with his thumb. “I care so much that I almost bloody ran to you yesterday, seeing you all battered and bruised like some injured puppy. Wanted to kiss away every bruise on your face, Thursday be damned.”

Morse grinned at the thought. “It’s not too late, plenty of bruises to go around.”

Peter smirked, climbing onto Morse, and straddling his hips.

Morse grinned up at him as he leaned in, planting a trail of kisses along Morse’s jaw before brushing his lips delicately along the side of his black eye.

“My poor Endeavour.” He whispered, feeling the heat of his breath soak into Morse’s skin.

Jakes hated seeing him in such a state, wishing he could take the pain away. He wished he could punch the bastard that did it, tell him if he even tried to look at his Morse again, he’d be sorry. But he couldn’t, the man was gone, and he couldn’t avenge the man who’d been awarded stitches for saving a girl.

“I’m proud of you, you know. For being so brave, even if it was the whiskey confidence.” Peter murmured, softly kissing around the stitches above Morse’s eyebrow before pulling back catching his eye contact. “Not that I don’t hate you for scaring me. You’re going to give me a bloody aneurism one of these days.” He said in a more serious tone.

“It’s not as if I asked for it.” Morse countered.

“I don’t know so much, sounded like you did a good job at rattling him.”

Morse looked down. Peter was right, he probably could have saved himself the bruised ribs and the black eye if he didn’t let his mouth run away with him. “Can’t help it. Not very good at thinking before I speak.” He admitted.

Peter huffed a smile. “I know, I know.” He pulled himself closer to Morse, planting a kiss on the man’s forehead, careful to not touch the lump on his head.

He let his forehead rest against Morse’s, hand still wrapped on the side of his neck. “Just promise me you’ll be safer from now on, right? If not for your sake, then for mine?” He knew nothing could change his self-sacrificing, expendable opinion of himself, but he hoped now he had something to hold onto, had something to come home to that wasn’t just a record player. He had _someone_ to come home to now.

He could feel their breath hang between them in the close space, feeling Morse silently nod. “God knows what id do if you didn’t come home to me on day.”

Morse looked to him. “Careful, Peter you sound like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He said, almost sounding defeated.

Morse frowned at him. “You can’t just say something like that.”

“But I mean it. I love you, Endeavour.” And god, there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt in the man’s eyes.

Morse was looking at him like he’d grown a third head. “You… love me?” Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined Peter Jakes saying those three words, let alone to him.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. “Yes, you idiot.” He smiled, before pulling him in for a long, open kiss.

Morse broke away after almost a minute had passed.

“I love you too.” He whispered, breathlessly.

Peter looked at him surprised. That was not what he expected. “Really?”

“Yes, you idiot.” He mocked, before closing their lips together again. It was hot and desperate, both of them trying to pull the other closer, even though they were flushed against each other. Morse wrapped his arm over jakes, hand pressing on the small of his back, whilst his other hand cupped his jaw.

Jakes moved his hand from his neck, curling his fingers around the back of Morse’s head, pushing him deeper into the kiss. Morse opened his mouth, letting Peter’s tongue slip in, greedily tasting him. Morse let a groan escape him.

Jakes eagerly pushed himself closer, forgetting about his sore ribs which made Morse flinch back.

Peter immediately pulled away. “Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry.” Peter stuttered, shuffling back.

“It’s nothing Peter, I’m fine.”

“It's not _nothing_ , Endeavour. The doctor said not to strain yourself.”

Morse rolled his eyes. He’d give Win a run for her money right now from the way he fussed. “Some things are worth straining for.”

Jakes returned the eye roll. “I’m going to get some food in, make you up something fresh.” Jakes said, finding his top that was dangling precariously on the side of Morse’s drawers.

“You really don’t need to; I can just grab something later.” He said, rolling over to watch Peter as he sourced his clothes from around the room.

“No, I insist. I’m going to make us up a full English, and tonight I’m cooking us dinner.” Jakes gave him a sly look, “Might even find a candle or two.”

Morse flashed him a grin. “Peter Jakes, are you asking me on a date?”

“More stating than asking, I’d say.”

“What a hopeless romantic.” Morse teased.

“’S your fault” Peter replies softly, placing a chaste kiss onto Morse’s forehead who was still lying in bed peacefully. “I’ll be back soon, don’t miss me too much.”

Morse hummed, smiling to Peter as he brought an arm under his pillow, propping his head up slightly. “I love you.”

Jakes looked back before opening the door, “I love you too, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh thats it! working on the second work for this series now Ive finished my exams *yay* I could graduate now, how mads that? Anyways lol let me know what you think!! Ly guys


End file.
